The apartment was cozy. Clean in a way she wouldn’t have guessed, although it lacked the personal touches taking it from house to home. To her left there was a galley kitchen with white cabinets straight out of the eighties. The laminate countertop was worn but tidy, with rows of jars organizing sugar and flour and coffee.
Directly across from the kitchen was a couch and a television propped up on a coffee table. Living room, ad dining room next to it.
“Down the hall are the bedrooms. Only one bath, so I hope you don’t mind sharing. Oh, do you need to sit down? You look a little pale.”
“I’m always pale.”
Still. Georgia let Jasmine guide her toward the table and plopped down in a chair when her knees felt weak and her head woozy.
“Here, try to breathe. Deep breaths now.” Jasmine took hold of her head and pushed it down between her legs. “Easy. You must not be used to the cleaner Oriel uses.”
“It’s not the cleaner,” Georgia answered between gulps. It was everything. How could she even begin to explain?
She’d fallen so far from where she’d started. She was a completely different person, with a different outlook on life.
How could she explain to this stranger that the apartment was nicer than anyplace she’d visited for the last two years? She used to live in a multimillion dollar cottage on the Malibu coast. Now she was an outcast. A freak of nature. She wasn’t even supposed to be alive.
And this girl urging her to breathe was showing her the biggest kindness of her life.
Air hitched in her throat.
“Hey, is okay. You probably need a shower. I’ll try to find some spare clothes, although I’m a little smaller than you. I don’t have the vavavoom on the chest and hips. No matter. I’ve got some t-shirts that will probably fit. Here.” Jasmine held out her hand and proceeded to tug Georgia to her feet.
She hiccupped. “Why are you being nice to me?”
Jasmine shrugged. “Why not? I have no reason to be mean. Besides, from what you’ve said, you’ve had it pretty rough. It doesn’t cost me anything to make up the couch bed and let you take a shower. Does it?”
Georgia supposed not. She just wasn’t used to it. Nothing came for free. Not even her life.
The hot water in the shower felt like a gift from heaven. She tried to remember the last time she’d taken a hot sower and found her mind a blank. Whenever it was, she enjoyed it, and it took the edge off the pain. The hunger. She could almost forget—almost—that she wasn’t human anymore.
Oriel came in some horus later, walking past her on the couch and pausing for a moment to stare at her. At least, she assumed he was staring. She kept her breathing even and pretended to be asleep, hearing his footsteps come to a halt near the dining room table.
Then he proceeded down the hallway, saying nothing, doing nothing. She released her breath and wondered not for the first time what the hell she was doing. This was a far cry form how she’d seen her night unrolling.
She must have slept, although she didn’t remember dozing. It was the same as the shower. She didn’t remember the last time she’d gotten more than a couple hours at a time.
Turning around and blinking, her eyes fell on a vial on the table. Glowing red.
* * *
“Have you ever worked a foamer before?” Oriel began. He reached out to retie her apron strings and draw it tighter round her chest.
Georgia was uncomfortable. No matter how she tried to think of this as a roll, she knew it wasn’t, and she’d had no time to prepare. A quick breakfast of coffee with the nullum fame and she was sent down to the shop to begin her first day. Oriel wasted no time in getting her set up on the training fast track.
The first sip of the potion shot through her system like an electric shock. The ache in her belly disappeared immediately and the haze in her mind cleared. It was amazing what a few drops could do for her. It eased the aches, erased the pains, and finally she could think. She could live without fear.
She could think about how to work the foamer, or so Oriel would believe. Maybe he would rather have her think about how to be the best employee she could be. She didn’t have high hopes.
“I think I can manage a foamer, thank you very much,” she said, keeping her nose raised.
“An actress who can make her own cappuccino. Now I’ve seen everything.”
“It isn’t going to be a pleasant working environment if you keep antagonizing me. This is hard enough without you coming or me.”
Oriel blinked. “I’m coming for you? I didn’t realize. I thought I was doing you a favor by letting you work for me and giving you a bit of my…prize.”
“Your prize?” Her eyes bugged out. “Isn’t it a little soon into our relationship for you to tell lies?”
“I realize you were there first, but do you really believe you were walking out of that ship with the potion in hand?” He shook his head like she’d told a funny joke. “Honestly, Georgia. You’re lucky I let you have a bit this morning. I’m talking about my livelihood here.”
She ground her teeth together. The man was infuriating. It went beyond normal manly cockiness. He was nothing but a meathead, and she hadn’t ruled out if he was a bully yet. He was approaching bully territory. She knew for sure.
“Tell me about the coffee shop. Why you’re here and what you exactly…do. You aren’t a vampire but I see a shit ton of them hanging out outside.”
He pointed a finger at her face. “We are going to have to work on your mouth. O, I’m not a vampire, although I have intimate knowledge of them.”
“Ah, so you were a blood slave.” She drew on her rather limited knowledge of the vampire sub culture and wondered if her joke would hit home.
Oriel’s brows drew together. “Excuse me, no. I’ve never been nor will I ever be a blood slave. My mother was a vampire.”
“So then why do you identify as human? Half does not a human make.”
“I never said I was a vampire.” He set about furiously polishing the foamer with a towel. “My mother had cancer, okay? She would have died had a kindly vampire not offered her the out modern medicine couldn’t. She turned when I was ten and Jasmine was four.”
There was something in her voice that gave her pause when she was prepared to fire back. A melancholy. No, that wasn’t exactly it. There was pain, sure, and a slender rod of wistfulness. But there was also anger.
“You feel like talking about it?”
“Only to tell you I’ve dedicated my life to helping those of the paranormal community. I’ve een involved with them for the better part of my life. I know that they aren’t all bad, they arne’t all a slave to their hunger like the ones I’m sure you’ve seen or read about. But some of them need help. They need all the help they ca get.”
“Why coffee?”
“Because coffee is the universal ambrosia. No matter the creature, they can all stomach the good stuff. I’m not sure what it was about the coffee but I’ve made it my business. And a single drop of the nullum fame means my customers not only come back. They come back with a clearer head. More able to handle themselves and make it through their daily life.”
Georgia understood better than he knew. It was why she’d worked so desperately hard to find the potion and keep it. It was the only thing she could handle, the only thing to sustain her and keep her standing. Yes, she could go months at a time without eating. However, the pain was always there, in one form or another.
“You expect me to believe you are a philanthropist for the supernatural.” She slowly nodded. “How selfless of you. I’m just another one of those broken baby birds you need to nurture and hand feed back to health.”
Oriel tipped his head back on a disbelieving laugh. “Haven’t you ever heard the saying about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer? I want you where I can see you. Otherwise who knows what you’ll do.”
“I might almost think you’re intimidated by me.” She felt a swell of power that had nothing to do with her pa
ranormal status and everything to do with her feminine nature. One hip cocked to the side in a remembered gesture from her better years. “Tell me the truth, Mr. Justice. Are you afraid of me? Is it because you find me attractive? Because you worry I’ll slip the vial right out from your pants?” She sidled close enough to touch him and placed her fingertips on his leather belt. “Tell me the truth.”
She watched his Adam’s apple hitch. “I want to make sure you aren’t going anywhere. End of story. You are a very attractive woman, I admit. Is that what you want to hear?”
His hand came to rest on top of hers.
There was a moment. When his eyes connected with hers and she could almost pretend nothing had changed. She was a normal woman attracted to a normal man and in a good position to follow through with her desires.
Then the bell rang and a vamp with three-inch fangs lengthening out of his mouth broke the moment in two.
“Double shot with extra juice,” he called out. A regular.
To give Oriel credit, he didn’t jump away from her. Instead it was a slow reverse, keeping his hand on hers as long as possible until the distance drew a disconnect. “Are you ready for your first customer?”
Did she have a choice? His husky voice had her in a spell and she shook her head to break it. “Let me watch you until I get the ropes.”
The gig wasn’t hard, she decided a week later, pressing the button on the machine to get the brew going. She wouldn’t go so far as to insinuate a trained monkey could do what she did, but it was close, and she found against her better judgement she was starting to enjoy it. It was nice to feel needed again. To feel like she wasn’t a freak of nature.
It was nice to have coworkers she could laugh with and trust with her secret. None of them had quite figured her out. Then again, she hadn’t figured it out either. At least no one judged her for who she was.
And there was Oriel. Handsome Oriel with his imposing muscles and need to have things done a certain way, in a certain manner. She came to enjoy the nights where they worked until dawn alone. It didn’t matter that she was waiting on people—a far cry from her former position where she’d been the one with a crew ready to do her bidding—and it didn’t matter that she was surrounded by the bloodsuckers and shape shifters of the Oregon underworld.
The way he looked at her when he thought she wasn’t looking made her feel as close to normal as someone like her could get.
She glanced around the main room, taking in the teeming masses of supernatural creatures hammering for a seat. It was packed that afternoon. Full of women in beanies and men who looked like they would rather devour a book than a human. If she’d walked into the shop b accident she would have never guessed she was among the seedy underbelly of the normal world. The people who were not supposed to exist. The stuff of stories.
And now she was one of them.
The shapeshifter in front of her held up two fingers to get her attention. Georgia wiped her hands on the towel tucked into her bistro apron and nodded, glancing a cross the shallow bar top. “What are you having?”
In her mind it came out too New York City. Like a waitress at a diner with her hair fizzing around her head and another ten hours on the clock. She had to work to stifle the grin.
“I want an americano. Extra juice.” The man sent her a leer and leaned closer. His nostrils flared. Smelling her.
She shook her head and adopted a firm but kind tone, the way Oriel instructed her. “Sorry, sir, it’s one per customer.”
“You kidding? What’s a guy got to do to get the juice around here?”
“I know what you mean. Sadly, we’re working on a limited supply. Nothing we can do about it. Now, about the americano?” She turned toward the machine and stopped when the shifter’s hand shot out, his fingers tipped with claws and latching on her wrist.
“What if I told you that you don’t have to settle for a single shot? That you can have as much as you want if you only knew the right people?”
She tugged at the vice-like contact. It didn’t loose. “You’re going to want to let go of me right now.” Her words trembled and goosebumps roe on her skin. Fear. “My boss will be in any moment.”
“You think I’m scared of him? I came to see you. Georgia.”
“How do you know my name?”
“I know a lot about you. I know where you came from. I know the man who made you what you are.”
It was too good to be true. Remember what she said, about everything coming at a cost? “What do you want?”
He shrugged. “I want to help you. I want you to be complete in who you are, and I know you won’t get it here, with Justice’s hard and fast rules on the nullum fame. He wants it all to himself. Don’t you see?”
“No. He’s helping people.”
“He’s greedy. Keeping it like a dragon with his hoard. I know someone, Georgia, someone who can help you learn to control your powers. Who will give you unlimited access to the potion whenever you need.”
“If this man has it, then why are you here complaining about being limited to one shot?”
“Listen.” The shifter leaned closer and his claws dug into her skin. “This is the chance you need. I’m here to offer you the life you can only imagine having back. Do you want to return to the spotlight? To be loved again? If any of it rings true, then you have to listen to me.”
“I don’t have to do anything you say, buddy.” But there it was in her head. An image of the life she’d had stolen from her. Parties and lights glinting in her face. Moonlight and magic where she didn’t disappear into the shadows. Everything had been taken from her in fire and blood.
Was it really possible to have it back again?
The stranger released her with a satisfied smirk. Knowing the seeds he’d come to sew were planted.
“Think about it. You aren’t going to get what you need from him.” He inclined his head toward the back door where Oriel was soon to burst through. “He’ll keep the potion from you even when you are desperate for it. Trust me, Georgia. You’ll never get where you want to go if you stay here.” He pushed away from the seat and set her with a stare. “Think about it.”
“How do I get in contact with you?” she asked slowly.
“I’ll find you again.”
“Are you sure?”
“Just keep an eye on him. Watch what he does, where he goes. Watch what he does with the potion. You’ll see.”
It tempted her, she mused, watching the shifter leave through the front door.
What was I doing here? She stared down at her hands, at her apron, at the soft soled shoes Oriel told her to buy because it would be better on her back.
She wasn’t built to be a hired hand. To be a slave to other people’s desires. These creatures…they weren’t like her.
“Hey, what are you doing?” Oriel burst through the rear door with his arms full of coffee bags. “There’s always something to clean. You shouldn’t be standing around staring off into space.”
She glared at him. “Haven’t you heard of breaks?”
“Yes, and yours is scheduled in the next thirty minutes. I’m not a complete slave driver, you know.”
His word hit home. Slave. It’s what she felt like anymore. A slave to her new nature, one she didn’t understand. To this man who thought he had a hold on her.
Her eyes narrowed. It wouldn’t hurt to watch him and see what he did. After all, she deserved to know what it was he did with his time. She lived under his roof and worked for him. It was only natural to want to know what he did and who he did it with.
Right?
It was a smart move. And if she had an opportunity to grab the nullum fame for herself, then she would take it and get her live on track again.
5
Georgia shifted in his embrace, her hands scratching against the forearm keeping her pinned to his chest. He held her tight enough to let her know. He could cut off her air supply with a single flex.
She began a rapid-fire back and forth on
the pros and cons of the situation. It was one of her gifts. Something that had made her a dynamite at choosing parts with the best long-term payout. Something that helped her memorize her scripts in half the time it took her castmates. Something that helped her navigate the treacherous waters of Hollywood as well as the back alleys of Washington and Oregon after her death.
If she couldn’t figure her way out of this, then she was worse than useless. She could handle a man. Right? Even one like the sasquatch surfer keeping her locked in this terrible bargain. Well, maybe she would leave time for handling him. He certainly felt strong and solid and nummy pressed against her back.
Focusing, she ran through various options and plans, working her way through the alphabet to gauge possible outcomes. It came down to one. She was out of bargaining chips.
“Think you can loosen your hold and let me breathe a little bit?” she asked instead with a venomous dose of sarcasm.
Oriel let his grip loosen but only just. “Well?”
“I’m thinking, man, I’m thinking. Don’t rush me.”
There was something to be said for having someone there to help her, honestly, or at least offer to help her figure out what she’d become. If he let her have some of the potion even better, because—
“You and I both know there isn’t much of this stuff going around. The alchemist responsible for the nullum fame hasn’t produced a fresh batch in the last ten years, from what I understand, and no one else has been able to find the right mixture,” Oriel said, as though reading her thoughts. “Who knows when another vial is going to be available. If I were you, I would take the offered hand instead of snapping at it.”
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